Consequences
You know, I cried for an hour the day she went to our place, outside my door. I was alone, putting on my shoes, while all your friends talked to her, like they used to do with me. And you came to pick her up. You couldn’t even look me in the eye.
You make me hate everything I used to love. I’m sure you don’t even think about me, with all those trips and dinners, but of course, you’re “just friends”.
Sometimes I wanna call you and tell you all the things you ruined for me. I don’t trust any man. How you ruined a sport I was good at, the songs and shows I love, the places I used to escape to.
You’re the worst, acting like an innocent child, always complaining, always the victim. You’re a wolf dressed like a sheep, and one day everything will come back. And honestly, I feel sorry for that girl; she looks nice. Did you tell her we used to do the same things?
I’m the one smoking now, not like a chimney like you used to (or still do), but one or two a week. I’m pretty high on my meds, like you are on your weed, at least mine actually make me a person.
Have you ever seen a therapist? Oh, I remember, you didn’t have the time, but you were “gonna try”. Instead, you decided ruining me was easier. what a wonderful end.
One last thing, for the good times.
While I was in the hospital with no way to communicate except a landline that only received calls from 3 to 5 PM, I waited every day you were on the other side. I only got one call for five minutes. I could only make calls three times a week, and every single time, you were the first person I tried to reach, but you never answered.
You knew where I was, and you didn’t care. When I finally got home, the first thing I did was text you… and your reply made me feel like I was just a stranger.
I delete and block everything, but you're still there like a fucking ghost. The only thing I’ve kept is a photo of you looking at me at eighteen. Who could’ve told me that the twenty-one me would suffer the consequences?

















